


Moonskin

by Dragonsquill (dragonsquill)



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, Character Death, Evil Odin (Marvel), Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Loki (Marvel), Incest, Multi, dark folk tale, escaping the afterlife, one-sided Odin/Loki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2019-06-06 11:29:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15193826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonsquill/pseuds/Dragonsquill
Summary: In the wake of great tragedy,  Odin All-Father chooses to guarantee his line in a way that will shake his people to the core - forcing a member of his own family to become his wife and mother of future children.  His son Thor, now in the afterlife, refuses to let his father's madness destroy more lives, and begins a quest back to the living realm as his brother Loki tries to keep the kingdom together.Inspired by the classic fairy taleDonkeyskin.





	1. Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> Loki is genderfluid in this story, and the use of pronouns will reflect what they are feeling - in this first chapter only, there is a dichotomy between Loki's sex and their gender.

The morning of Loki Odinson's wedding dawned bright and cool. The common square, so recently draped in black and lavender, had been transformed overnight into a celebration of the silvers and golds traditional for noble weddings, the streets cleaned to near-sparkling. It was a beautiful day, perfect for bringing joy to a people lost in a cloud of mourning.

But there was no joy in the city on this day.

When Loki emerged from the palace into the soft morning rays, his dress shimmered with all the gold of the sun, with the sleepy silver of the moon. Its like had never been seen before, not in all the worlds. He was in his female form, in body if not in spirit, and he moved with an inborn grace befitting a future consort to the king of Asgard. Yet, despite his beauty, despite the people's long affection for their prince, Loki was greeted not with cheers and well-wishes, but with an ominous, still silence.

Or --- no. Not complete silence. There were sobs, quiet gasps for air, frightened shushing.

_"Smile,"_ spread a whisper over the crowd. _"Smile for the king."_

Loki lifted his head , sharp eyes tracing the gold and silver carpet that crossed the entire square to end at the ancient dias overlooking the sea. Behind him, his attendants gathered his shimmering train in their hands in quiet discomfort. 

It was a long procession.

Swallowing down fury and nausea, but not bothering to school his thunderous expression, the sharp cut of his eyes, Loki stepped forward.

Power, green and strangely soft, wafted weakly along the golden cuffs at his wrists, a wedding gift included with the rest of his trousseau. 

The people breathed.

The power shimmered, but did not transform their prince, the people, anything.

The people wept behind fans and into handkerchiefs cleverly hidden in sleeves.

_Smile for the king._

One voice from the thousands rose in a sudden cry of, "Freedom for your grace!" but the rapid movement of elite guards silenced him before any others dared take up the call.

In his heart, Loki promised that voice all the protection he could offer when this concluded. For now, he glided beneath the banners of his house, among the commoners of Asgard in their finest. The sun sparkled on the necks and ears of the nobles nearer the dias. Their smiles were polished and careful, showing none of the sickly undercurrents of the common folk. 

Loki's antics and sharp tales made for great entertainment in the streets of the city, and affection followed in their wake.

Loki took a slow breath, gathered his skirts, and took the steps with a steadiness unsullied by the intense hatred in his eyes.

He came to a stop beside his betrothed, who stood strong and powerful in the traditional armor of Asgard's king. In opposition to the tradition of lowered eyes and respect of rising queens, Loki met his groom's face with lifted chin.

His voice, when he spoke, struck with the power of venom.

"Father."

Odin, Allfather, Widower, Father, Groom, lifted his child's cool hands to his own lips and pressed a kiss to fair knuckles. His voice was gentle, loving, and held the immovable strength of steel.

"My queen."


	2. Adoration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six months before the royal wedding, in happier times

**Six Months Previous**

Loki's mouth curved with mischief as Thor's eyes fluttered open, dark and blown. "Is this enough, then?" Loki purred as he moved with infuriating, infinite gentleness. "Is this what you wanted?"

Thor glared at him as best he could while sprawled naked and beautiful against Loki's pillows, his legs spread, knees tucked at his brother's waist. "Must you tease me even now?" he demanded, but the low growl of arousal in his voice gave him away. 

Loki always knew just how to manipulate him.

Loki grinned at him, wide and stunning and rare. "Now more than ever, brother," he answered with false innocence. "I can't allow my prince to grow restive."

Thor fairly snarled and grabbed Loki's hips, his rough hands pulling as his hips shoved, forcing Loki's cock deeper. "The only danger is that I might fall asleep waiting for you to move!" he shot back, and was rewarded with a velvet chuckle and snapping hips that brought on a steadily rising wave of pleasure. 

They came together, a rather secret but beloved use of Loki's seidr, Thor on a shout and Loki on a low-pitched moan that danced along Thor's spine as their pleasure crested. Afterward, Thor sprawled messy and satisfied with the god of mischief sprawled on his chest and thighs. Gentle hands petted Thor's chest. Loki was always so pleased with himself when Thor fell apart around him. Thor allowed the smugness - they both knew this act was and had always been theirs alone, and his brother's satisfied possessiveness was a delicious reminder of how their relationship had changed over the past decade.

Besides, Thor was very nearly as bad when their roles were reversed, and with Loki's tendency to change sex according to his mood, Thor was blessed with numerous and varied opportunities to coax his challenging and glorious sibling to exhausting orgasm. 

As their breaths evened out and they moved together into familiar comfort, a languorous wave of Loki's hand cleaned them up as Thor tucked them in together. He was always convinced Loki, who ran much cooler than Thor, was freezing, and Loki couldn't convince him otherwise. Well cuddled in, though Loki would despair if Thor used the word aloud, Thor kissed Loki's shoulder and murmured, "I'm going to miss you," fully prepared for a sarcastic response.

Amazingly, he avoided it. "As will I," Loki answered honestly, stroking gentle fingers over Thor's shoulder. "And you know I question whether the separation will be worth it."

"Because you're an eternal pessimist."

"No, Thor, I'm a _realist_. Even Mother will struggle with the thought that you want to marry your brother."

Thor shifted, catching Loki's hand to give the fingers a nip. "You, Loki. Not some random brother off the street. I love _you_ and I am going to marry _you_."

Loki cleared his throat without arguing which was, Thor knew, as good as a statement of undying affection from Loki. Being in love with his brother was a challenge, but worth it - and certainly never boring. "-But," Loki continued, "you'll never convince Father. You know he doesn't intend for me to be anywhere near the throne."

Thor sighed. He could practically play both parts in this argument by now; the decision to inform their mother of their relationship, to be followed by announcing their engagement to their father, had not been taken lightly or quickly. Thor had no reservations about the announcement; there were no rules stating that they even needed the king's permission to marry, and though the marriage of siblings had fallen out of favor in the last few generations, it wasn't unknown of before then. Loki, who had always been dissatisfied with the idea of being male all the time, spent fair amounts of time in her female form, which contained all the equipment necessary to mother children (if she could be talked into it). Thor had, too, a well-designed argument concerning their complementary strengths and weaknesses should Odin need convincing. 

What had broken his heart over the months since he had mentioned the idea of properly marrying instead of sneaking around in the shadows was his growing understanding of how Loki saw his place in their family:

Frigga loved him as her son and heir to her abilities. Thor loved him when Thor wasn't being a "great ass" and there was an undeniable sexual chemistry between them. Loki’s feelings for Thor were just as deep and romantic in nature, though he voiced them rarely.

Odin, Loki was certain, saw Loki as a spare and a disappointment. They were born together, but Thor was the elder by 10 minutes, and that, plus Thor's ability to please Odin where Loki seemingly could not, made all the difference in their father's eyes.

Thor had argued at first, and been left with a cold bed for nearly a year before he opened his eyes and watched the way Odin interacted with each of them. He....did not treat them the same way, but Thor didn't believe Odin didn't love Loki. Their father watched Loki, kept an eye on him, didn't exclude him from meetings. He just didn't _understand_ Loki, and Loki was no better at understanding Odin.

He hoped their marriage might smooth the way toward a reconciliation. 

"Brother," Thor said, breathing kisses over the fingers in his hold. "Must we fight each other tonight? Haven't we made this decision enough times?"

Loki huffed, but he also hid a kiss in Thor's hair, a sign of acquiescence. "I expect a proper engagement gift upon your return," he ordered.

Thor chuckled. He would be accompanying their mother to Vanaheim as her honor guard as she attended a cousin's wedding, and there were jewelers there of certain renown. Thor didn't have to buy Loki's love, but it didn't hurt to bribe it a bit from time to time. "Of course," he said, smiling as he thought of a simpler gift he planned to give his beloved in the morning. "Only the best."

"Good," Loki said. "Now get some sleep."

The order was arch, but the kiss was not, and Thor smiled to himself as he curled around his prickly, adored lover.


	3. Tokens

Loki woke first the next morning, as usual, and dressed before Thor so much as stirred. A stop in front of the mirror, and the sharp lines of his body softened slightly, a widening of the hips, the curve of breasts. She altered her clothing as well, minor changes to the cut, adding the fall of a skirt over leggings. Then she glanced at the god of thunder in her bed, banished the leggings with a thought, and woke her brother as she straddled him in a swirl of skirt and took him into her body. 

Thor was clearly very pleased with this wake-up call, and eager to repeat it immediately, irresponsible as always. But Loki, sated from his cock and fingers, ushered him out of bed and into the washing room. There, she scrubbed his hair, fought off his wandering hands, made sure his ceremonial armor was shined and properly buckled, and threatened to remove Thor’s fingers one by one if he didn’t behave himself.

She did _not_ join her brother in the bath, which he pointed out with lustful eyes. Her slow, answering smile did nothing to calm him down.

She did love to tease Thor.

“I'll not have you representing our family looking like you don't know how to bathe after battle,” Loki said as she worked to tame Thor’s mane of golden hair. “Especially if you're planning on talking about a proper engagement.”

Thor grinned at her, and Loki's heart foolishly skipped a beat. Her brother was disturbingly optimistic, worryingly trusting, unfortunately romantic, and often arrogant, but-

Ridiculously, Loki loved him.

“Stop smiling,” Loki ordered - or meant to. Her voice came out distressingly fond. “I'm going to say yes only to avoid our otherwise inevitable fight for the throne.”

The grin spread. “Of course, sister. You have always been incredibly dedicated to the good of the people.”

“Exactly.”

Thor stood, stealing a quick kiss as he did so. “It certainly isn't because you're madly in love with me. That's just a bonus.”

“I took pity on our people, who would otherwise have to deal with your appetites.”

“And I will marry you because no one else would put up with your merciless tongue,” Thor said as he removed a small wooden box from his wardrobe. 

“True,” Loki said aloud, though of course she had full faith in her own many charms. “Nor your overwhelming sense of self importance. ...I recognize that box.”

“You should.” Thor pulled Loki to his feet. “You made it for our 50th birthday.”

“And you still have it? It doesn't even lock properly. You are a sentimental fool.” 

“I am. And I didn't have a clue then that I would end up in love with you. I just kept it so I could tease you with it later.” Thor’s smile was the charming one that got him out of trouble while leaving Loki waist deep in it. 

Loki should have snapped at him, but found that she couldn't. Truly, falling in love with Thor had done terrible things to the mischievous silver of her tongue where he was concerned, where once he had been her best and favorite subject. She needed to rectify that.

He reached around Loki's neck, rough fingers brushing the clasp of Loki's necklace. Thor wore little adornment, but Loki liked solid accessories when she was in the mood for them, especially when his gender was up in the air for interpretation. Loki watched him warily, but didn't stop Thor from removing the golden links or the shiver from those fingers on the delicate skin of her neck. “You better have something gorgeous to replace those,”s he said as Thor lifted the necklace away.

Thor’s chuckle wasn't particularly comforting. “Don't look,” he cautioned. Loki rolled her eyes but obeyed. 

Something soft caressed Loki’s neck before settling into place, and Thor’s large hands turned her to face the mirror. 

“It’s _red_ ,” she said, lifting her hands to touch the silken choker around her neck.

Thor positively beamed in the reflection beside her. “Yes, it is.”

“I don’t wear red, Thor.” She motioned to her dress in her preferred black and green, edged with hints of gold. Red was Odin’s color, and she avoided it for reasons she . . . could not name, precisely. Something in their father’s eyes when he looked at her, something in his growing dismissal of any chance she might one day be ruler of Asgard. 

“But I do,” was the cheerful reply.

Thor watched as her fingers traced a pair of delicate gold chains from the fabric choker and, audaciously, a sparkling representation of a lightning bolt. 

Balefully, Loki glared into the reflected blue eyes. “Surely you’re not serious,” she said, her voice practically dripping with disbelief. Thor hanging his symbol around her neck was more appropriate to a pair of commoners not yet 100 in love, not two princes well over a millenium. 

But Thor just laughed and wrapped his arms around Loki’s waist from behind. “Until I bring you back your proper gift. To remember me by.”

Loki sighed but didn’t remove the choker, a flush of warmth in her belly at his possessive hold and sparkling eyes. Thor was looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Your sense of fashion continues atrocious.”

“Hmm.” He nuzzled behind Loki’s ear, the bastard, knowing just where to press a kiss to distract her. “But I make up for it with excellent taste in siblings.” 

“Flatterer.”

“Fact.” Another kiss and then, with uncharacteristic uncertainty, “I will be away for the bulk of a year. Have you no token for me?”

Thor knew Loki better than anyone else, but even he couldn’t read her completely. Loki worked to keep it that way. Being understood meant being predictable, and Loki never wished to be predictable, least of all to Thor, who had never dedicated himself to a lover until Loki took him into her arms only a decade before. Yet, there were times when Thor’s uncertainty . . . stung. 

Loki lifted a hand to her own hair, slicked back to curl at the nape of her neck. Clever fingers separated a lock and a twist of green seidr made it grow long and sleek. A twist of her other wrist and a dagger appeared, neatly slicing the lock of hair off. Thor watched with fascinated interest. 

For all that he could be arrogant, Thor never took Loki’s hard-won talents for granted. 

“Here.” Loki turned in his arms, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. She reached up, seidr trailing around her fingers, and neatly plaited a lock of Thor’s hair from Thor’s temple and behind his ear. As he did, he woke in his own black strands. With a gesture, she removed the gold cuff from her right ear and reshaped it into the sharp lines of her own familiar sigil. A final spark and it clamped into place, sealing the braid. Dark and light were woven together down Thor’s long mane of gold.

She felt the little hitch in Thor’s breath, and knew she had planned well.

Loki avoided Thor’s eyes as she lifted the new bead to her lips and whispered a ward of life and protection over it. They black hair would grow, still alive, and though it was only a little thing, not enough to save Thor from all danger, the spell would protect this one braid from all damage.

It was ridiculous sentimentality, so of course when Thor asked what the spell did, Loki resolutely refused to answer. 

“Gather your bags,” she said instead, turning in an imperious flare of skirts, “tardiness is a sign of disrespect among the Vanir.”

She should have told him. She would have told him about the protection spell, about how long she had loved him, about how his optimism kept her grounded, about how she had begun to hate herself until his love restored her. She would have told him a great many things, had she known it was the last time she would see him alive.

But of course, Loki knew no such thing, and Thor only chuckled as he followed her orders and followed her in the direction of the Bifrost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The major character death is coming, but please note that this fic does have a happy ending, and one of the tags is "escape from the afterlife." 0_~


	4. Vanaheim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Major character death in this chapter, though it isn't permanent for at least one of them.

Thor died only two months after leaving Asgard, but he did not die alone.

The official visit began well. Thor and Frigga arrived in full regalia, and were warmly welcomed by the Vanir side of the family. They asked after Loki, but weren’t terribly surprised to find that he hadn’t joined them. In the years since Mjolnir and Thor’s assumed ascension to the throne (by far the darkest time in his relationship with his brother, though he had come to learn much of the fault was his, though not all), Odin had grown increasingly paranoid about losing both his heirs at once. To that end, Thor travelled as the golden crown prince while Loki remained in Asgard, slinking in the shadows and bringing secrets to the table as Odin dealt with his nobles in ruling the realm. 

“So no one would back me,” Loki once spit in Thor’s face, “the god of mischief, such a _lovely_ realm for a supposed future king!”

For a time, Loki hated Thor almost as much as he mistrusted their father. It had taken centuries to find each other again.

They did not become lovers to rule together, but as Thor arrived in Vanaheim, warm and aching and wearing Loki’s hair braided into his own, Thor couldn’t help but believe it was their fate to stand at each other’s sides, making up for the other’s deficiencies with his own strength. Of course, he couldn’t say as much to Loki; Loki rankled at the idea of anyone making decisions for him, the Norns included. 

Frigga negotiated and caught up with family, and Thor hunted and traveled around the land, playing the part of the crown prince with true good nature. He enjoyed the Vanir, including his other cousins, though he had little patience with attempts to place eligible young women in his path, just in case he wanted companionship or, preferably, a wife. They were lovely, cultured, and well-behaved, and once upon a time he would have grinned and taken those with genuine interest to bed. But that was before. Now, he wanted only one person, and wrote letters back home to that effect.

Loki’s return letters were much more businesslike, but Thor saw through that. And his favorite, which came in their fifth week apart, was clearly written when Loki’d had too much to drink, and was filled to the brim with romantic declarations that Thor kept tucked close to his heart to blackmail his sibling with later.

He was content, getting ready to tell his mother of his and Loki’s intentions, performing well as the crown prince, and participating in trade negotiations. The visit was a success, and he had confidence it would continue to be so.

His death, when it came, was the unexpected work of an instant.

Thor was with his mother and her favored companion Fulla, sharing a late lunch in one of the Vanir’s beautiful gardens. It was a rare moment of peace, orchestrated by Frigga and a basket filled with cold food. There was no real privacy here, with the Vanir relations wanting to ensure that they’re always entertained, and it was good to be away and have time with his mother. When home in Asgard, Thor remained at the Allfather’s side, learning to lead and fight in Odin’s style. Loki spent his days studying seidr and a fighting style more like Frigga’s, so ultimately spent more time with her. But Thor loved his mother’s clever and soothing presence.

“You miss him,” Frigga said after their third story of Loki’s mischief when a child visiting Vanaheim. 

Thor smiled into his ale. “Aye,” he agreed, “as one misses a missing part of yourself. We have ever been under each other’s feet. To walk so unfettered feels unnatural.”

Frigga’s smile was playful. For all his dark hair and fairer skin, many of Loki’s expressions could be traced back to a milder version in their mother. “I was much the same in the early days of my marriage to your father,” she said neutrally, exchanging an amused look with Fulla. “It tempers with time.”

Thor laughed, “Loki and I have known each other since before we were born, I don’t-”

He stopped suddenly, his eyes widening as he realized that she spoke not of a sibling, but of her husband. “Mother-”

Now the smile was sly, and oh yes, there was Loki’s smug look when he had one over on you. “Of course,” she said. “Unlike your father, I can see what is right in front of my eyes.” She reached out and took his hand in hers. “My heart is happy for you. I have seen, as you grew out of your childish jealousies, how well you suit each other.” She winked. “I did wonder if even your considerable charms would be enough to claim our Loki’s heart, so carefully does he protect it. You must be very persuasive.”

The way she said persuasive made Thor feel a rising of heat in his cheeks. “Truly, he learned the sharpness of his tongue from you!” he accused. She laughed, warm and sweet.

The sound of her laugh surrounded him as the world exploded into fire and smoke and death.

Their deaths were so quick, so unexpected, that only for an instant did her laughter become a scream. Thor’s hand rose, pressed over his heart, over Loki’s beautiful handwriting and rolling poetry of love and belonging and new beginnings. 

The world expanded, Fulla cried out, his mother screamed - then everything twisted in on itself in an instant, a reverse explosion, unnatural and silent until-

His eyes burned away with the rest of him.

 

When he opened his eyes again, there was no pain, and he knew he was dead.


	5. Mourning

Heimdell knew the moment Thor, Frigga, and Fulla’s lives ended. He saw it. He felt it. 

For the first time in centuries, he abandoned his post.

He told Odin, alone in his office, in simple, direct words. He said they were gone. He said that he had seen their souls leave Vanaheim. They had not been transported. The lady, the queen, and the prince had been suddenly, violently killed.

The people learned in a blast of power, a fierce scream of intense sorrow and anger in each Asgardian’s mind. Cries broke out across the city, broken and hurting, confused. Names fell from their lips: _Thor! Frigga! Fulla!_

The people wept, prostrate with an unnamable pain that came to them, unbidden, by the great power of their Allfather.

In a room atop a spire, a sound like breaking ice cracked the air. Frost crackled from nowhere, snapping bottles and shattering windows that had withstood centuries of magic. 

Seidr exploded in a mass of uncontrolled power, spewing ice, as the tower twisted into an unrecognizable shape.

The air turned frigid.

The Allfather wrestled his power under control.

Asgard wept.

Alone in a spire where he had learned at his mother’s side, where his brother would come to bother and tease him, the prince of Asgard stared at nothing as his skin fractured into shades of blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _In Marvel canon, telepathy to all the Asgardian people is one of Odin's incredible collection of powers._


	6. Grief

Loki lurched to his feet, fine Asgardian leather sliding on the snap of crackling ice. 

_Dead. Dead._

Thor. His mother. It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t-not anymore than-

He ran for the window, grabbing at the frame as layers of ice shattered like glass. Ice _he_ made. Ice _he_ -

He transformed, or tried to. The familiar flow of seidr was there, but under the surface, hidden beneath a layer of cold that bit into him and somehow warmed him at the same time. He willed sleek wings, talons, the strength of a falcon, but only remained-

Himself?

Impossible. Impossible. He was Loki Odinson, second born of Queen Frigga, twin brother to Thor, Prince of Asgard, destined to rule at Thor’s side as both husband and wife. Thor. His beloved, infuriating, cocky, romantic oaf of a brother. He needed Thor. 

The force of Odin’s message to them all hadn’t lessened, and the force of the king’s misery still lingered in his mind, a faint shadow of his own. _Dead_ Dead, but his skin was blue, and ice trailed from his fingers, and he needed someone he could trust.

But Loki only trusted three people. 

And two of them were-

He ran. He stumbled down the stairs instead of flying, shoved through the door and into the streets. 

Everywhere, his people mourned, tears and wailing, cut off in shock as Loki rushed past them.

They stared as if they had never seen their mischievous, sly prince before.

One woman screamed.

Loki ran. 

He ran to the Bifrost, the ground crackling at his feet, until he saw Heimdall. Heimdall, who saw everything, and knew everything, and had always held a soft spot for Odin’s less favored son. 

Heimdall wasn’t surprised to see him. He simply tilted his head back-was Loki taller?-and held out his hands to catch Loki’s arms. “You must calm yourself,” he said, and though the words were gentle, they held the power of a direct order.

Loki’s silver tongue failed, and his words came out broken. “Thor-it isn’t-and I’m-”

“If you do not calm yourself, you will not be able to return to the form you’ve worn all your life.” Heimdall’s gaze didn’t waver as they met blood-red, inhuman eyes. He wasn’t surprised. Some part of Loki that wasn’t panicking in denial whispered _Of course he’s not. Of course he lied to me too._

When he spoke, Loki’s voice rumbled from deep in his chest, unfamiliar. “You _knew_!”

“You must change before your father sees you. Loki. You must return to yourself.”

Loki’s laugh was sharp, his eyes wild. He didn’t try to free himself from Heimdall’s hold. “I think I have. For the first time.”

The all-seer sighed, his touch gentling though he didn’t let go. “Listen to me, Loki. You are as you have always been. You are Freya’s son. You are Prince of Asgard. That old secrets reveal themselves doesn’t change this. But you must, you _must_ return to your accustomed form before Odin sees you. It is imperative.” His voice took a sharp edge. “He must not see you like this. He must not be reminded. Not now. In this, you must trust me.”

Loki’s hands, frost dusted, shook. “Does Thor know?” he whispered, his voice breaking like a child half-grown.

Heimdall closed his golden eyes. “No, Loki,” he said with unaccustomed softness. “No, Thor didn’t know.”

A sob choked in Loki’s breast. Thor didn’t know. Thor hadn’t known. Thor hadn’t lied to him.  
Thor was his brother. His beloved.

Thor was dead.

Loki’s seidr flowed, and his body, blessedly, melted away the ice as his skin paled and his height lessened, as green eyes stared without seeing into a world that had shattered around him. 

\-------

Odin had felt the people’s panic at the sight of a frost giant, albeit a small one, in their midst. Even in his grief, he moved to help them, rose to his feet and called his weapon to his hand as he strode to the balcony with all the confidence of a king whose face wasn’t red from weeping. 

Below him, the small giant moved like a creature possessed, looking neither right nor left, in the direction of the Bifrost. Odin lifted his staff to bring down the creature, mind only half-present, so tangled in his loss. It was a near thing that he did not murder his own beautiful son. Had the ill-fitting clothes not caught his eye, or the fall of Loki’s hair, or the familiar grace even in this larger body-

“Loki,” he breathed.

It had been so long. A millennia.

He had nearly forgotten. The lie was so entrenched among the people that he had almost lost the memory of the wailing baby, how it transformed in his hands, how he brought the infant home to his pregnant wife. How they had crafted the lie of Loki’s birth together. 

Of course. Yes.

The giant disappeared onto the Bifrost and Odin lowered his weapon, released his power. 

It had been so long, he had let himself forget. 

In his chest, something stirred. Something he had denied in the long years he kept his beautiful child close, denied Loki the freedom he granted Thor. Something dark and twisted that centered on jealously guarding his younger son. 

In the madness of his grief, this hidden emotion sparked in his chest and took to flickering flame.


	7. Afterlife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor wakes, and isn't where he expected.

If Thor had been given a moment to think before the agony burned him away, he would have expected to regain consciousness in a sea of warmth and tranquility. He was a great warrior. He had served and protected his people, if a bit arrogantly. Valhalla would bring a peaceful end to the battles of his life.

But consciousness slammed into him in a realm of total darkness, the heavy scent of earth and old water mingling within the black. He coughed, his lungs desperate for air, for function, for life. 

“Well, well, well,” purred a voice he didn’t know, chuckling over the tightness in Thor’s chest and his memory of burnt out lungs. “Thor Odinson. I never thought to see _you_ here.”

Thor took in air, his chest rising and falling into a steady rhythm. He lifted his eyes, stared into blackness. “Who are you?” he demanded. “Where am I?”

The darkness swirled, more physical than visual, a hint of green light framing a sharp, coldly beautiful face. The very artistry of the introduction made his chest ache for his brother. 

She smiled. 

“You’re in my realm, little brother, where our beloved father sent me to rot. You’re in Hel.”

He stared at her. 

“I don’t have a sister.”

A derisive snort. “Of course Odin never told you. Our _beloved_ father is a consummate liar, my dear.” Light slowly rose around them, revealing . . . nothing. A realm consisting of nothing at all beyond the two of them; Thor, in the clothes he’d worn at the moment of his death and Hela in armor of ancient design, torn and damaged. “Also hardly a loving and forgiving man.” Her smile was sharp, deadly. “What did you do to so anger him that he sent you to Hel with his proper heir?”

“Nothing.” Thor spoke slowly. “I have no quarrel with Father. I was on a mission to Vanaheim with Mother. There was an explosion.”

Hela lifted one long finger. Her calm disturbed Thor at an instinctive level – how long had she been here? Millennia, to cover his and Loki’s lives. Millennia more, to wipe out her existence from the memories of Asgard’s people. “The dead do not come here, princeling. Only the living. We cannot pass into the next world and are trapped here.” She swept her hand dramatically to take in the total lack of surroundings. “Nowhere. My Hel.”

“But I did die! I burned-” a cough, a dull memory of pain. He knew it had been excruciating, but so fast. Alive one instant and gone the next.

The woman who claimed to be his sister snorted and brushed tangled hair from her eyes. “I am the goddess of death,” she told him, her voice deceptively low and warm, but her eyes and the twist of her mouth, spoke of danger and isolation. “I know death in all her aspects. I _am_ death.” She reached out, and Thor flinched at the motion but didn’t quite pull away. He felt her fingers touch his temple, then trail through his hair. “There is the power of death all around you, inside you, but I cannot control you. I tried, when you first arrived.” Thor felt cold at the thought. “All for this, here,,” she lifted the braid from his mane, black neatly folded into gold, “here is life.” 

Thor’s hand rose, trembling, and rested on the gift his sibling had bestowed on him. A final kiss, a final wish. “Loki,” he whispered. 

Hela laughed like glass breaking and screams for help. “Odin’s supposed youngest gave you this? As what, a love token? One brother to another?” She looked almost fascinated. “This is all? This parlor trick hides you from Valhalla and Fólkvangr?” Her nails were so sharp she snapped a few hairs, which disappeared into a swirl of green magic. “He is more powerful than I suspected from my glimpses of life.”

Thor pulled the braid from her fingers, feeling sullied and nervous at the touch. “Loki is to be my consort,” he said, “and his power rivals our mother’s.”

“Loki believes you’re dead, and you might as well be,” Hela sneered. “There is only one escape from Hel, and it is a long time coming.”

Thor’s hand curled into a fist, empty without his beloved Mjolnir. Where was she? Back on Vanaheim? No explosion could destroy her. “Tell me the way,” he rumbled. “Tell me the way and it will happen.” 

He would not abandon Loki for so trivial a thing as death, not when his brother had fashioned a way to save him. 

Hela chuckled, touched her own cheek with those talon nails. “Will you listen to a story?” she asked, magic crackling around her fingertips. “Will you face the truth of our kingdom, our history,” her mouth twisted with disdain, “our _All-Father_? Because it is the only way to know where we are, and how to escape.” 

Thor squared his shoulders and faced this being who exuded evil intent. He did not know whether he trusted her, but he would listen. For Loki, he would listen. “Tell me,” he said, and she smiled to cut diamonds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our actual understanding of Norse "afterlife" isn't very good, given it comes to us through Christian writers. So in this, I'm certainly doing a sort of Marvelish version.


	8. Betrothal

For seven days after the death of his brother and mother, Loki was trapped inside his apartments. 

Under normal circumstances, it would have been nigh impossible to contain him thus, but in those first days, as Asgard fell into full mourning, the loss of Thor, of his mother, and of himself overcame even his sharp mind. He walked in a haze, staring at his hands, weeping in the emptiness of his bed, infuriated by his father’s lies. He ran freezing water in his bath and dipped in his hands, watching as they turned blue, as ice covered his fingertips and over his knuckles, until he could will it over his entire body. 

He never looked in the mirror. He couldn’t stand to. 

On the seventh day, he bathed properly, combed through his wet hair, and pulled on a soft robe. He moved automatically; it had been several years since he did this alone for so many days. He had grown used to Thor underfoot at some point, asking with big blue eyes to have his hair tended or ordering up Loki’s favorite breakfast before tugging him back into bed. 

The rooms echoed with the lack of Thor’s footsteps, Thor’s laughter.

He was seated at the breakfast table in his parlor when the door opened and Odin entered, in full ceremonial armor. Loki startled, half-standing and feeling unusually off balanced in his robe and bare feet. “Father-”

Odin smiled at him. The expression was so soft and so rare that it made a shiver run down Loki’s back. Even in his grief, he sensed that something was wrong. 

“Stay seated, my dear,” the All-Father said warmly. Loki’s fingertips touched the table and he nervously took his seat. He had meant to take Odin to task and demand the truth when they met again, but now he only wanted the conversation to come to an end. “There is much to discuss.” 

“Of course,” Loki answered carefully. He crossed his ankles and tucked his legs close to the chair, a false image of relaxation as seidr gathered beneath his skin. 

Odin did not sit. “The funeral will be in three days’ time. All has been arranged.” Loki’s hand curled into a fist on the table. He was Thor’s betrothed. If he had only listened, if they had only-he should have a say. He should-

Odin laid his broad hand over Loki’s. “I would not have you burdened with trivial details when we must look to Asgard’s future,” he said kindly. “I would give you time to grieve.”

Loki didn’t move. His father touched him rarely since he had come of age, and spoke sweetly to him eve less. No, Odin watched him, and kept him close, a prize within his palace, but his rare approval was saved for Thor, his affection for Frigg. “Thank you, Father.”

“You have learned your true nature.” It was not a question.

Loki swallowed, his throat tight. “To some degree. I am . . .” _the monster who comes for children in their sleep_ , he thought, but he couldn’t put it into words. 

“A chance for peace,” Odin finished for him. “A prince of Jotunheim, brought into Asgard as a link between our worlds. It has ever been your destiny to do so.”

Loki’s eyes widened. “A prince?”

“Laufey’s son.”

Loki felt blackness at the edge of his vision, swallowed against the bile in his throat. “Laufey’s son? Why? Why am I here?”

“You were with the casket. An innocent babe, abandoned and hungry. I brought you here, and raised you beside my own son.”

“Your own son?” Loki’s voice broke weakly. A week earlier, _he_ had been Odin’s son. 

Odin squeezed Loki’s wrist before lifting his hand away and, in a movement that astonished Loki and terrified him at once, the king of Asgard knelt before the stolen Jotun he had raised. “It is time to bring peace to our realms, my beautiful Loki,” he said, and Loki felt his hands start to shake, his too-clever mind leaping to conclusions. It wasn’t possible. No. Even with the way Odin had looked at him over the years, even with Heimdall’s warning, it couldn’t be possible. Odin thought him an unneeded second son, not _this_. Even Thor had seen it, finally. “Asgard is already in despair without a proper heir to the throne, one who carries the blood of Bor.”

“I am your heir.” He said it quickly, trying to force it into the world. “No one yet knows-”

“Oh, they have been told. You were seen, and explanations were given. They will understand.”

Loki didn’t ask what they would understand. As impossible as it was, he knew. And he knew he would have no choice in the matter. If Odin was mad enough to ask, he would not be sane enough to accept a refusal.

“We will marry, Loki, the king of Asgard and the lost Prince of Jotunheim.” The king lifted his son’s hands to his lips and pressed kisses to the knuckles; a lover’s kiss. “We will marry, and produce heirs, and there will be peace.”

Loki shook his head, tears brightening his eyes. “I-I can’t-”

He wanted Thor. He _needed_ Thor. He had never felt so desperate for his brother's presence than now, when he would never have it again.

“You will.” There was no room for argument in the brusque tone. The All Father pushed to his feet, then pulled Loki to his. Loki felt suddenly bare, in only the robe, and he felt a rare flush of embarrassment heat his neck and face.

He had not wanted to hide for fear since he was a child.

“You are a smart boy, always have been. You’ll understand, and do what must be done.”

Odin’s whiskered cheek brushed Loki’s lips as he kissed the edge of Loki’s mouth. Loki felt light-headed in the moment, disgusted, lost at sea. “The announcement will be made in six days time. I will expect a bride at my side, of course; the people must remember you can produce sons.” He smiled. "They will be beautiful, our children."

The king of Asgard released Loki's hands, turned, and left Loki’s rooms. The heavy weight of the door closing was accompanied by the sound of the great key. 

Loki was locked in again, and he was completely, utterly alone.

But he was not helpless.


End file.
